


Rules of Attraction

by tawg



Category: DCU, Teen Titans
Genre: AU, M/M, Master Plan, Seduction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:34:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawg/pseuds/tawg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bart wants Gar's help, but with spring in the air and the animal urges demanding attention, Gar can't even help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules of Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> This was written back when the DCU looked like it could end up being a happy place (before the '05 Crisis). As a result, this is pretty much an alternate universe.

It was hot outside, the end of summer. Strictly speaking, Gar avoids going out in public at the end of summer. All the people and smells and lack of clothing make him… twitchy. At best he just need to work on not staring or making a spectacle of himself in public, which isn't the easiest of tasks for a guy who's natural skin tone ranges somewhere between 'olive' and 'rainforest'. At worst, he locked himself in his room.

The train ride through cities and to the campus had nearly killed him, and walking across the grounds had all but destroyed his brain. Girls sunbathing, wearing those tiny shorts and smaller tops and _smiling_ at him. Half-seduction, half-terrifying. But there had been this letter and some directions, and Gar was a sucker for that kind of thing. Curiosity and felines and whatnot.

Gar wandered into the cool, airy building. One of the science wings. There wasn't any noticeable climate control, but the interior was deliciously chilled opposed to the heat outside. It must have something to do with the rocks, or fossils, or whatever. Knowledge, probably. Gar could remember school distantly, as something that was cold when you had to learn, and hot when you played. Following that logic, a University was bound to feel this chilled, like still waters. Then a voice called Gar's name across the empty room, sending ripples of sound over the glass cases and up the cream walls.

Bart looked older than Gar remembered. Which made sense because he wasn't a fifteen-year-old anymore, and he'd looked closer to twelve then anyway. He'd been at university alone for four years. Although, that didn't mean much since some string pulling had been done and - for Bart at least - high school had become optional. Like Tim, university suited Bart a lot better than high school had. And on that note, yes, there _was_ a reason for this visit.

"So Tim and I are doing this study thing on people and chemicals that effect their brains, and-"

And Gar recognised this. The small words, the light tone that tasted of mockery. It stung, especially from Bart. "You don't have to explain it to me like I'm an idiot."

Bart stopped, and coloured slightly. "Sorry, I've been explaining things to idiots all week in my tute, bad habits and stuff." Bart played with a bottle of juice he held in his hands, drawing patterns in the slick of condensation. It was kinda cute. "I'm really sorry, let me start again."

Gar gave him an encouraging smile, and leant back against one of the glass cases. Then Bart started using words like 'pheromones' and 'affective' and 'conditioning' in a context that had nothing to do with hair products. Bart's voice hadn't changed much over the years. If Gar had worked harder to stay in touch he probably wouldn't have noticed a change at all. It was a shame Bart never got into public speaking or anything, he had a really good voice. Expressive. Kind of… smooth and-"

And Bart had finished talking. Gar blinked away the glaze that had formed over his eyes. "Okay, now try explaining it to me like I'm an idiot." Bart laughed - with that nice voice doing something strange that made Gar sneeze and feel generally awkward - and took a swig of the juice in his hand. It smelt like apples and strawberries, and involved the muscles in Bart's throat hitching and uncoiling, and the inside of Bart's pale wrist flashing through the air.

For such an energetic kid - who, note-to-self, wasn't a kid at all - Bart was always weirdly pale. Something about his skin healing from UV quickly. Then Bart wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, meaning the back of his hand now smelled like apples and strawberries, and there was this shiny strip that matched the moisture on Bart's tongue except it was _out there_. It made the hair on the back of Gar's neck prickle.

"Okay, it's all about hormones and environments." Bart began waving his hand through the air, emphasising points. Gar had to grit his teeth to keep from tracking the movement of that little fruity smear and pay attention. Something behind his left eye desperately wanted to start twitching. "We figure, if animals have set mating seasons maybe humans do too. So we test you for a year, interviews and blood samples and junk, examine it all, and figure out if there are more hormones, or different types of hormones at one particular type of year, opposed to any other."

And Bart, saying 'hormones', and 'mating', and hell, even 'blood' was doing disturbing things to Gar's internal systems. He swallowed a mouthful of thick saliva and thought about laundry. Was he wearing clean socks? Clean underwear? Alright, the underwear is more likely than the socks. No one wears clean socks, it's one of those urban myths. "And you need me because?"

Bart rolled his eyes. Which meant his head titled. Which meant there was this stretch of pale, soft skin practically pole-dancing over Bart's throat right there in public. "Because you're Beast Boy! A human with animal influences. You're like, the bridge between humans and different levels of life."

Gar tore his eyes away from the slightly whore-ish nature of Bart's neck, and tried to look affronted. "So you think I'm more likely to have a mating season?" Never mind that the kid and his strumpet-neck had a point.

Bart grinned, and scratched his neck, leaving a little smear of apple and strawberry juice behind. "That's one hypothesis, yes." Garfield Logan, case study in 'Body Language for Dummies'. Which could quite possibly turn into 'Real Life Accounts of Indecent Molestations' if Bart didn't stop grinning, and talking, and unintentionally smearing sticky substances all over himself. And hey, wow, it was suddenly his turn to speak. Right. Conversations will do that to you.

"Okay... I guess I can see the whacky university logic there." Say something smart, say something smart! "So why are you doing this? The study or whatever? It seems kind of…" Hot? Flirtatious? Enticing? "Base." Good boy! Gold star and a cookie!

"It completely is." Bart leaned closed and shot Gar a sneaky smile. "But, it's just the start."

Gar tried not to make any stupid noises. "There's more than just sex?" Nice. Smooth. Idiot.

"Yeah," Bart waved a hand dismissively, and apple and strawberries climbed up Gar's nose and started strangling his brain. "Tim's got this ten year plan or whatever. We start off with the sex thing, move on to aggression and social disorders and assorted messed-up psycho-ness. But to do that, we'd need specific test subjects."

Come on brain, this is an easy one, you can make the connection on your own. "Like, say, criminals and the Arkham inmates?" Score! And hey, Bart was still leaning in close. Like, almost personal space close. Like - if there weren't the perfectly justifiable explanation of Bart talking about some dodgy dealings that could get him kicked out of university for the rest of his life - Gar would almost consider the possibility of getting lucky. Almost. Down boy.

"Yup. We get their blood, do some DNA canvassing on the side, and hopefully get both a way to improve society and our doctorates out of it." Bart stretched his lips into a slow and easy smile. "But, right now," Gar held his breath, "we need some help with this little springboard project."

Gar let his breath out with a gust of air. "Right. Help. With the sex thing. I'm honoured you thought of me." Bart was absently tapping on the plaster-cast of a fossil on the table beside them. Each tap sent a little jolt of something uncomfortable up Gar's spine and around his stomach. "Um… right. So, a year?"

"Mmm-hmm." Oh dear God. The pointy ears? Not just for show, kiddies. All the little vibrations and tones and the fact that it was Bart echoing around and around. "It may take a bit longer. Completely voluntary." God Bart, don't _say_ these things, not so close. "The university will pay you for your time."

"And what about you?" Gar swallowed thickly again as Bart's yellow eyes - such freaky sexy primal eyes - meandered across his face. Lazily. Bart stepped forwards. Which meant that his hips moved forwards, and that dirty, smexy, teasing neck came closer still. "Well, _I_ don't have any money."

Apples and strawberries and the echoes of Bart saying perfectly normal things flooded Gar's brain like honey. "But maybe I can pay you in something else." Gar stopped breathing as Bart grabbed his wrists and manoeuvred his hands to sit on Bart's hips. And it's quite possible that he whimpered when Bart began to nuzzle at his collarbone. "Gar, please say yes."

Don't say anything stupid. Don't say anything stupid. Don't you dare fuck this up. Gar's hands flexed on Bart's hips, and Bart arched up against him, that brilliant face tilting back and that possessive neck shivering as Gar dipped his head and licked a hot stripe along it. Apples and strawberries turned to sherbet on his tongue as Bart made an indecent noise and tore his short fingernails over Gar's shoulder blades.

Bart was warm, and liquid, and twenty years old disguised as seventeen in Gar's hands. Flushed. Gar could close his eyes and he'd still know. Still smell it. Gar held his breath. And swallowed until the taste of Bart's skin was gone. He kept his eyes open, memorising. Devouring. Summertime. Twenty. _Fuck_.

And then his slipped his hands from Bart's waist. "I'll think about it."


End file.
